it's all over, but no time to process...

So it's over now.  We've ridden the last remaining miles into LA and now it's time to decompress.  Let me tell you of the happenings of my day; the last day of my experience.

I woke early after a night of wonderful snoring...in stereo.  Ate, packed, rolled my tent up for the last time, headed off to find my back tire flat, changed it, found my present from the chicken lady (an amazing poem in of all things a plastic egg, filled water and applied butt butter liberally, and rolled off along the beach onto the final stretch.  I felt great.  In fact, as the week went on I only felt stronger.  I found three other guys who were booking it and we flew all the way past pit one and found the hidden port o pots on the beach and then into pit two.  Actually even though we were booking it we were still somewhere in the back of the pack due to our hour + stop at the doughnut shop right out of Ventura.  (A rider had bought 20 dozen dougnuts and was giving them away for free - I had 3...and a choclate milk)  After pit two was lunch and then more booking it.  Our one scare was coming into LA, about eight miles from the finish, when Mark, the lead guy in our "pace line" hit some bad asphalt and went down, I swerved to miss him and actualy crossed the white line onto HWY 1, then Lorenzo breaked causing Mike to run into him and they both went down.  There were some confusion about whether Mike's bike would even be rideable into LA and Mark's road rash was bleeding and painful to even look at.  We poured water on it.  Ouch.  Mike somehow fixed his bike and we set off a bit slower and more cautious on our way.  Our remaining ride tok us right along the beach, under the highway, and then up one final hill where we stopped at the top and cheered people on.  After re-grouping we headed up and then around to San Vicente - the home stretch.  It's at this point that speed seemed to not matter and we were all laughing and joking, Shelly and I had a rolling water fight, and people had started lining the streets the cheer us in.  With one mile to go we stopped at Jamba Juice for some refreshments and a bathroom break (as I've said before I pee a lot on this ride...and since 6 this morning had peed maybe 10 times (it was 2)).  The last mile was amazing.  The sun was out, it was hot, everyone was smiling and riders had stopped along this stretch for cofffee and food and were cheering us on as we rode in.  We had one more turn to take us into the VA center and as we made it the cheering started, the cowbells started clanking, and tears started to well up in my eyes.  We'd made it.  I'd made it.  I'd done it again.  The winding path into the center was lined with people three or four deep and they were all cheering and hi fiving us, yelling and laughing and screaming our names.   We put our bikes in parking and waited for the last rider to arrive.  While waiting we viewed an installation of the AIDS Quilt and of course, I was crying.  We had closing ceremonies and then as everyone started going their ways, I got sad.  Some of these people I wasn't going to see for another year, some I would see the next day, but until the Ride happens again, this group of amazing poeple would not be in one place at one time.  This group was my reality for a week, and it was an amazing reality.  And now it was gone.  All good things must come to an end...at least this would happen once again.

We set off to our swanky West Hollywood hotel, showered, and were treated to a wonderful dinner by the manager of the Napa Valley Grill.  Because we had done this amazing thing, the manager bought us food and drinks for the seven of us that were there.  The food was spectacular, the service amazing, and the wine wonderful.  Too bad I was falling asleep into my Key Lime pie or else I'm sure that would have been superb as well.  I headed back to a friends house and fel into bed.  I don't remember anything else until 7 this morning when I woke with a strange craving for port o potties and oatmeal.  I guess similating myself back into the real work was going to take a little time.

I'll write in a few days kiddies once I've had time to process my thoughts.  Thank you for reading and a big hug to all of you that care.  Much love.

and finally the tears fall...

Traditionally Day Six has been the day of emotions for me.  I leave camp early to avoid hordes of cyclists on the road.  We immediately begin to climb out of camp and continue to do so for 15 miles or so.  All of this climbing is done in fog and mist.  One person was overheard that it was if we were climbing into heaven.  This is the stretch of road that I think about why I'm doing this and what my week has meant to me and to reflect on those loved ones of mine that are living with HIV/AIDS.  The hour or so of uninterupted gradual climbing in which I worked hard enough to feel much pain in my legs, gave way to some life revelations - those of which as a little too personal to share in this forum. 

Emotions are running high, many of us are sleep deprived, and seeing as tomorrow is the last day of this amazing experience, I've cried more times today than I have since last year on Day Six.  When i hugged the lunch lady, I cried.  When I came into camp and saw the trucks and gear, I cried.  Walking onto the sandy beach of Ventura Beach, I cried.  Too put it bluntly, I've been a mess, an utter yet quite fabulous mess.  Yes honeys - I'm a mess. 

To make things worse the culmination of the day was the cadel light vigil on the beach.  More than a couple thousand people made their way to the beach with candels and had some time of silence.  Some stayed for a short bit, others stayed for a while.  I made my way to the ocean's edge and sat down with my candle in the sand.  As I've done all day, I sobbed - uncontrolably.  All my friends had made their way back to camp and I was wishing there was someone there to hold onto me.  Not a moment passes and a hand is on my sholder.  I sink into it and hold his hand in my own and the human touch makes my sobbing more intense.  Through my tears I look up and realize I don't know this gentleman yet he's lending his touch.  He gets down on his knees and puts his arms around me and I cry into him.  We're holding onto each other and we're both crying.  I don't know his pain and he had no idea why I'm crying, but we're helping each other deal.  I stop crying and let go of him.  He asks if I'm okay and I say yes.  He stands up and touches my shoulder and then walks back towards camp.  I extinguish my flame into the ocean and walk away from the ocean.  I had a thought while sitting there.  Water is powerful.  It's calm and angry, warm and cold, intense and calm, forever and immense.  It's there with us, giving life and genrating power.  To release my fire into the water was to send my grief away, to stir, and return again in some form.  I fight this disease in my own self, my community, I fight the negative stereotypes against people living with HIV, and through all this I forget to greive for myself and those I love who are living and who have died from this.  When I was sitting there in that sand, I let a year's worth of grief pour out.  I feel somehow lighter now. 

On a lighter note, tecky stats for the day:  86 miles in which I rocked like a hurricane, 2 double double burgers at In and Out Burger, one chocolate brownie for dessert, I peed a total of 19 times since 6 this morning (two of those times were on the side of the road) and still managed to get a sunburn even though the skies were overcast the entire day.  I've made some amazing friends and at this point I am 96% sure I will return next year to ride again.  Also, for those of you that were wondering, I was not able to comsume four dinners last night - I bonked at my third helping but finished strong with a third dessert.  I'm off to bed kids, my body needs some sleep. 

who knew there were so many ways to wear red

Today is the shortest and most looked forward to day on the ride. It’s only 43.5 miles (of brutal climbs) punctuated by the fact that it was the most fun I’ve had on any ride to date. I woke late (with my new tent buddy), ate two breakfasts, got dressed with the entire tent group in our fetching red outfits, left late, rode slowly, laughed my ass off, had three bags of dorritos at lunch, danced for a while in Casmalia, and I’ve eaten two dinners and am going for four tonight – keep your fingers crossed – I’ll update you tomorrow. 

 
Today was red dress day, which for those of you that don’t know, is the day that we all get gayed up in red and ride around like idiots on bikes through rural California. I’ve seen things that would make a WEHO queen blush. We were joined by Miss Arkansas, Miss White Trash Prom Queen 1980, a kissing booth advertising kisses for a dollar and tounge for five, sequins and feathers and red thongs over black bike shorts, and one sad lonely boy in a Liz Claiborne Sport Dress (his name is Gary, check out his blog). The winner for the craziest and most creative use of red and fabulousness is Mr. Robert who took four inch vinyl leather pumps and had cleats put onto the bottom of them. He could barely walk in them and on more than one occasion I saw people escorting him around, but that man rode 43.5 miles in them and for that he wins my “You Go Grrrrl” award.  Today was the closest I've come to getting arrested on the Ride as we stopped in our red regalia at the Vandenberg Air Forced Base sign and proceeded to take some very raunchy and wrong pictures on governement property.  I'm sure I'm on some NSA governemet database and my movements are being tracked at this very moment.  After taking them I had to get out of there for fear of my captivity in a air force base prison (my pansy self would not bode well in prision).  I learned how to do bike balet today in honor of my friend Mike, and proceeded to make an ass out of myself for the better part of the day.  I'm still not sure what it is about day five that makes me so gay, other than the fact that I was in a super short sexy red number with red arm warmers and red and black feathers on my helmet.  We all talked about what people passing us on the highway must think about us.  I know what I'd think about us (those silly queers...) 

Today was also the day of the famous Casmalia Dance party.  Picture if you will, the last scene of the movie To Wong Foo where the town gather to dance at the "wild" and "red" strawberrry festival.  This is what the day looked like, only gayer.  The small town (consisting of 4 small buildings) of Casmalia had had A DJ and very large speakers set up in front of their general store (which in all reality only served beer).   They then blasted gay disco music for hours and we proceeded to have the rockinest party ever, only rivaled by the last year's appearance of the ALC riders.  The whole town joined in and we even caught one of the local latinos singing along to YMCA.  I danced for a while with friends and then pushed off for more miles of butt-pounding riding. 

Thoughts about today:  dresses are comfy to bike in, sequins make anything look fabulous, there really is a need and use for sunscreen, the hotter it is the worse port-o-pots smell, my short term memory is shot because out of the thousand or so people I've met I remember maybe a third of their names on a good day, a hug can make anything better, and night time snuggle-mates rock.  For those inquiring minds that want to know (all two of you) I finally got spooned last night after 4 nights of unrequited spooning requests from ym straight tent mate.  I mean, there really is no other way to camp than to have a snuggle buddy. 

More fun facts from the road:  I had pepper salad tonight, with pesto pasta, bbq pork, chicken marsala and butterfinger cheesecake, I showered for the better part of 20 minutes tonight, had my picture taken so many times today I couldn't possibly take another (so by that I mean I'm ready for my close-up), I was told by another person that the story I told in last year's documentary inspired them to do the ride, and I'm almost 100% sure that I will return to the Ride next year.  My stomach is rumbling so I'm headed off for some more fat girl food.  I'm rubbing my belly as I type.  Hugs to you all kiddies. 

holy jeeze my body hates me…

Well kids, it’s day Four and it feels like I’ve been rode hard and put away wet.  Even though it’s one of my favorite days, it’s also the day that I woke up and thought good and hard about riding at all.  I knew I was going to ride but believe me, at five in the morning it was the furthest thing from my mind.  Highlights from the day:  ocean views coming into Pismo Beach, cinnamon rolls at the water stop in Pismo Beach, Ginger Brewlay being utterly fabulous at the top of the world, seeing a rainbow of “Halfway to LA” signs and getting my picture on top of them, and the pizza which my good friend Shelly had delivered into camp tonight.  Speaking of Shelly I told her I’d give her a shout out for her amazing work today.  After climbing all morning and stopping at the Halfway to LA signs, we were treated to the most amazing downhill.  It was long, steep, freshly paved, and stretched on for 10 or so miles.  I’m ahead of Shelly and as we start down the mountain she comes barreling up beside me, passing me with such fury, I had a proud tear in my eye.  I was then pleased and a bit stunned when three very experienced cyclists jumped on her tail and followed her down the hill.  It makes a daddy proud to see.  She’s grown up to be such a big grrrrl. 

Okay, now back to me.  My body is hating me.  Although my skin is bronzed to utter perfection, a brown that is lusted after by every queen in LA…too bad it’s only from my wrist to my shoulder, and my ankle to my kneecap.  If standing naked in front of a mirror it would look as if I had a white onesy on.  My knees hurt, my legs hurt, my bum hurts, my ears hurt due to the fact that every single sunscreen application in the past four days I’ve seemed to have missed the back of my ears, my stomach hurts from laughing, my wrists and palms hurt from riding non-stop, and my back hurt from not being ale to properly blow up my air mattress.  Oh and in case any of you kids were wondering, my straight tent mate did not spoon my last night to my dismay.  I did however find a new tentmate for the night… 

Tecky stats for the day:  95 miles with winds gusting over 20 MPH, temps from anywhere between 90 to 50, lots of bumps, one flat tire, lots of laughs, and many quacks (the ducks and goose remained on our helmets today).  Tomorrow is red dress day and after having craft corner I’m set to be completely fabulous.  If anything, this ride makes me gayer than I thought I had to capacity to be.  It also makes me a better person.  I’m gonna head to bead before I start to get all emotional on you, seeing as almost anything can make me cry on a day like this.  More tales from the road tomorrow, in various shades of red…

and the sky shone down with the heat of a thousand suns...

Okay – anything I said yesterday about it being hot – seriously anything –  I didn’t mean it.  Today was a hard day for me, one of my hardest days of riding in almost two years.  The day started off great with pleanty of fog and nice back roads.  I stopped at pit one and had some bananas and headed off towards Quadbuster, the most dreaded hill on the entire ride experience.  Up the hill I went and off my bike to cheer the riders on.  I did this for some time and then headed back down the hill in order to ride it once more.  I tell people it’s cause I want a challenge, but really it’s a good way to help struggling riders at the same time as showing off a bit.  I spent some more time at the top and pushed on with my day.  Let me take this time to tell you the theme of the day – duck, duck, goose.  There were six riders with stuffed ducks on their helmets and me with a goose that squacked when you squeezed his belly.  People kept telling me they liked my duck and I would kindly yet firmly tell them that it was a duck.  He would come to be known as Bruce the Goose.  We love him and he is staying on my helmet for another day, although there is some significant wind drag with him on.  Then the ride turned a little sour.  The fog burned off, along with my face, and the thermostat cranked up.  At one point the thermometer said it was 102 degrees.  No wonder I felt like total crap.  It was interrupted however by the wonderful, yet ultimately scary town of Bradley.  These wonderful kids were so happy to have us there and we raised so much money for them  I like knowing that these will grow up to be amazing children, knowing no hate or prejudice for others not like themselves.  We headed out and on to camp and I was hurting.  The heat was overbearing, so much so that my tire popped causing me to SAG a half a mile into rest stop four.  There was one point that I thought I was not going to make it to camp.  I even asked another SF ride leader to watch my back for fear that I was going down.  Somehow though I did make it to camp and promptly headed to the showers.  This was the most amazing shower I’ve ever had…seriously.  I ate three, count them three fat girl dinners with two pieces of pie and hobble off to bed.  The route was a little over 77 miles with blazing sunrays of death, and my ass feels every mile.  I’m off to bed kiddies.  Here’s to hoping my straight tent mate will spoon me tonight. 

sittin pretty but my bum is sore...

I’m sitting here, cuddling up and trying to stay warm.  It’s the end of Day Two and what a day it was.  Let me start with the stats for the day. 

Miles – 105.32.  Top Speed – 42 mph of a screaming downhill, eyes closed and watering, holding on for dear life.  High temp – 82 F.  Price of a doughnut from the coffee shop in Santa  Cruz – 0$ (the woman next door paid our tab because she had lost her son 9 years ago to AIDS).   The time we held each other crying – almost a minute.  The amount of sunburn on my face, arms, and legs – painfully too much. 

Today is easily the most beautiful day of riding.  We skirt the ocean for a bit and then head inland towards the central valley.  Miles and miles of strawberry fields, celery patches, and head of lettuce everywhere.  I stopped near mile 30 for fresh fried artichokes with garlic mayo.  We were ushered into this famous unofficial stop by Miss Ginger Brewlay who was sporting a smashing combo gown with matching green headdress.  It was utterly amazing.  Leave it to gay men to make produce fashionable.  I battled the winds for the first part of the day and enjoyed them blowing me into many of the stops along the way.  I was visited by superheros at rest stop 2, disco babes and gents at stop 3, and naughty camp girls at stop four, the cookie lady with her famous offerings, naked swimming in a mountain river, sobbing in a pew at the Mission Soledad, dust sticking to the sunscreen on my face, an application of sunscreen by a rather hot gentleman, and another century under my belt.  I left camp at 7 this morning, and didn’t get in tonight until almost 7.  That’s 12 hours on the road.  No wonder my body hates me right now. 

I’m off the roll out my kinks and hobble to my tent for another wonderful night of snoring in stereo.  More to come tomorrow when I’ve got a little more time. 

gettin the kinks out...

Day One.  I've been on the Ride for 13 hours now and I've cried more time than I have the past year.  Don't listen to my ex when he tells you I'm cold and heartless - I'm just not a big crier.  Some things just got to me, touched me, reminded me why I was taking this journey.  I was taken aside by a young man who told me his story, a story that mirrored my own.  His HIV status, his drug use and resulting downward spiral which almost resulted in his death.  At this time last year he was close to death.  He watched the LOGO documetary and informed me that I was his hero and was his inspiration for doing the Ride.  We cried.  A lot.  During opening cermonies the entire group of positive peddlars and roadies were brought up to the stage and were treated to a thunderous applause - the applause that lasts long enough for you to get teared up. 

Emotions aside let me give you some general statistics:  Today was hot.  It was real hot.  Actually the ride started off foggy and chilly, then foggy and warm, then chilly and sunny, then just plain hot, and my sunscreen wore off at about noon which left three or so hours for the sun to burn a hole in my face.  It was also windy - sometimes bad wind, and sometimes good wind (good wind is the wind that pushes you toward the finish...).  My speeds were higher than expected and the resulting leg pains were rolled out painfully at the medical tent upon arrival.  The shower was amazing.  My tentmate (and ride boyfriend (sorry boys he's straight)) had our tent set up when I arrived.  I'm listening to the nightly "news" here in camp and enjoying the cooling air.  My legs are tired.  I'm tired.  Here's to a second dinner and an amazing night's sleep.  Thanks for reading.  Hugs to you all.

and so it begins...

It's the night of Day 0 and just having consumed enough carbs to kill a normal person and wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep, I've still got a load of laundry and most of my packing ahead of me.  My parents will tell you I've always waiting to the last minute.  I guess I work best under pressure (cue theme song by Queen and Bowie).  Yikes.  I'm stir-crazy, tired, anxious, a lil nervous, and so freaking excited about the ride this year.  The past weeks have given me a chance to reflect on my ride experience last year and everything that's come out of it.  I've had the immense pleasure to inspire other people with actions I viewed as humble, altruistic and a whole lot of fun.  The support and feedback I've recieved from last year's experience has made me realize that yes, we are heroes.  So why am I riding again?  I ride for myself, for thost that can't for those that can but don't want to.  For those that think there's a need to and those that don't, for those that need inspiring.  For my lovers, friends, parents, for those that want me to and those that don't.  I ride for a cure, for an end to infection and means of better treatment.  I ride for health, for freedom from negative stereotypes, for validation, for love.  This year means so much more to me.  I know I can ride the miles and that the hills won't kill me; that chaffing in the butt area is normal and yes, cycling 585 miles is indeed painful.  This year the ride signifies life.  Life realized.  Tomorrow morning at 7:00 AM (8 short hours from now) I will be lucky enough to begin another chapter in my life.  When I return to SF next week I will be a different man.  Not better, but most definitely different.

This year I dedicate my ride to my parents in the hopes that they will one day see me beat HIV.  They are turely the most amazing people I've ever known and they deserve at least that.  Thank you for reading and I'll see you on the road

About Jon

I'm doing it again. Why? Wasn't last year enough? Close to 1,000 miles of training, hundreds of hours getting my body fit, worrying about raising enough funds to be part of the event, waking at 4AM way too many times to ride across the cold and foggy Golden Gate Bridge, tired, tired, and more tired. So why am I doing it again? Because AIDS still exists. It's real and tangible, present and fatal, and it knows no social or racial boundaries. I ride because I need to. Am I crazy? Perhaps. Committed? Most definitely.  Through this ride I've been validated, come to terms with my disease, and found the strength to not only tell my own family, but the entire world.  Today I shout proudly, I am alive...  I'm a 25 year old second year rider who has been living with HIV for the past five years.